


Vengeance

by Casstea



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hinted torture, Loki has some introspective feelings, Thor 2 Trailer add on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Loki sits in his cage of glass, he becomes more determined to show the world what true madness is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I watch the Avengers and Thor 2 trailers in close succession.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Thor or Loki, this is written for fun and not for profit.
> 
>  
> 
> **NB - spoiler for the Thor 2 trailer**

He knew he was being watched.

He could sense the eyes glaring inwards at him through the glass, their faces shielded by the magic of the glass. They could see in yet all he could see was his own image, skinny, powerless, ruined, image staring back at him.

That was his torture.

Oh they had tried to place him in fire, knowing that his heretical blood betrayed him. It had taken him nearly two weeks to heal from that particular ordeal, and he had been forced to retain his blue skin for a further month before his magic had healed fully for him to slip into his Asgardian form once more.

 _They want me to be repentant,_ he thought, face twisting into a macabre smile. The expression only added to his wild looks when coupled with the shining madness he could see in his eyes, the green flashes staring out beneath his unkempt hair. They expected him to play by their rules, their rules of war and peace, rules which told them that he would beg for forgiveness.

 _Like I would cower to such levels,_ he thought, throwing his feet heavily onto the white marble floor of his cell. There was not much in this cell, a simple bed along with a table and chair were the only furnishings. A few books had been left by one of the guards, he assumed it was a present from his mother. She didn’t want him going mad in his cell.

He laughed at the thought, his throat dry from lack of fluids. They only brought him food twice a day, and he knew that it would be a while before they brought him morning meal. There was no way to gauge the time from any outside source in the cell, but he could tell the general time of the day from the ebb and flow of the magic which flowed through the cell, not trapped by any boundaries his captor could conceive.

No, he was already past the point of return. He _revelled_ in the freedom the madness brought. After all, it wasn’t a true form of madness, his mind was not twisted beyond the point of all thought and comprehension. It was just that it thought _differently,_ it looked at the wold with a new view that everything was not as beautiful as it portrayed to be.

Take humanity. They would pride themselves on their creativity and ingenuity. They would build buildings into the sky and machines which could cross oceans and create systems which would allow billions of people to talk to one another at the same time. However, they were still flawed. They were broken inside because no matter how much they tried to climb towards the lofty heights of majesty their innate nature to destroy and burn and kill would rise up from within.

Yet _how,_ just _how,_ could his brother care for something so broken? How could he say that what he was doing was right and _just_ when he failed to see their true nature? How is brother failed to see _anyone’s_ true nature, the fact that every living thing he had seen or encountered in the universe was out to destroy.

That was life’s great lie. Every creation wanted to destroy, every living thing had a point where they just _slipped_ into their baser understanding of morality, where everything became black and white and no one had to worry about petty moral codes.

He smiled. He liked this view he now had, where people could be simply split up into bad and _worse._ It made it easier to judge when they were going to turn and stick a knife into your back, and if you knew that you could pre-empt them. You could put a knife in their throat before they had even considered the thought of destroying you.

The door shuddered open. Cold air swiftly entered the room, acting like a balm against his skin. He smiled, lips parting in a predator like fashion as he saw who was standing in the doorway. They truly had stooped low if they were coming to _him,_ the one they thought as mad as a dog foaming at the mouth. He uncurled himself, long limbs straining from the lack of movement over his containment, leaning back against the wall. He was confident, he was the one who was needed, whose expertise they required.

After all their words and actions, he was still _needed._

A small part of him flared up, knowing that he was needed was like a piece of driftwood to cling to in the sea of darkness which consumed his every waking thought. He snarled, a low hiss escaping his dry and cracked lips, as he forced that part of him back down inside. He was not that person anymore, he did _not_ desire to be needed by others.

No, he was not weak as other portrayed him to be. He was not crushed by his confinement, because he was truly a precious relic that needed to be shown and displayed.

“You must be truly desperate to come to me for help,” he said, delighting in his brother’s wary and frustrated stance.

He was immortal. He was unstoppable. No force could contain his presence.

 “You should know that when you betray me,” his brother said, words short and clipped like the good statesman he was, “I will kill you.”

He was a God. He could not be killed. He could not be stopped.

“When do we start?” he said, smile widening further. He allowed his madness to show through fully, shining like a beacon of light which almost forced his brother to avert his gaze.

He was Loki, God of Mischief and Bastard Son of two worlds.

And he would have his vengeance.


End file.
